Rule #4 TURN YOUR LIFE INTO A WORK OF ART

We hopped on the four-lane LA Freeway in our rented gold Ford Focus. It was already dark. Ferraris, Maseratis, Corvettes and Lamborghini’s zipped by.
I was a freaking out.

“Where are we?” I asked myself. I had nervous diarrhea.

We took the Wilshire Blvd. exit. Suddenly, we were in another world: hushed and opulent. Tiny lights sparkled on the trunks of towering palms. Beverly Hills, land of the rich and famous, lay before us like a bitch waiting be f*cked.

I was TOTALLY lost. On a side-street I saw two Japanese girls. They told me, in broken english, “Turn left, turn right, turn left, go straight, you see!”

The Beverly Hilton rises up from the boulevard, a massive monument, flooded with light, gushing with fountains, alive with tropical plants and flowers. We staggered in, bone weary. My ‘up-do’ usually so chic and tidy, looked like the Cretaceous–Tertiary extinction event.

But Mummy still looked good, and Josh, the concierge, recognized us instantly.

“Hello Win! Hello Phoebe! We’ve been waiting for you!.” .

I’d been talking to Josh for a month – planning our reservations, tour and accommodations . I told him I was bringing a very special guest.

“Don’t worry Phoebe. We will give your mother the time of her life!”

Josh gave us his favorite room: “Cabana Room #1” by the pool. One wall of our room was glass. We could see starlets swimming in the pool, their nubile bodies illuminated by the Christmas lights. They were wearing bikinis and drinking Mai Tais. It was 55 degrees.

When Hilary Knight interviewed Esther Williams for Vanity Fair last year she wanted to be interviewed at the Hilton, by this pool. It is known as “the most beautiful pool in Beverley Hills”.

6PM

We dressed for dinner. I wore a grey dress with an empire waist, zebra stripe shoes with a medium wedge heel and black stockings with chevron patterns. Mummy looked perfect in pink cashmere, silk scarf, and black suede shoes with a red wedge platform.



WALKING ON WATER


I called for the Hilton Family personal driver. Mr. L. He picked us up in a Lexus limo and drove us to a restaurant called “The Crustacean.” The floor is an aquarium. You walk on glass. Under your feet, tropical fish swim happily as if nothing about this whole arrangement is unusual in any way. The aquarium is a path that leads you into the French colonial splendor of the dining room.
An excellent Smooth Jazz band was playing. Mummy said,

“I like that music.”

Our server, Marcello, was handsome and charming. (Figure 1.) He suggested that I order the Chilean Sea Bass. I recoiled in horror,

“But that is on the Monterey Aquarium “don’t eat” list!

Marcello said,

“Yes! But this is a special occasion.” Marine Ecology and Conservation went out the window. Neptune forgive me. I had the bass.

Mummy had salmon.

Our food was delicious. Mummy loved the flowers. I loved the flavors and our darling server Mario. Everything was beautiful.

Mr. L picked us up in the limo. Mr. L was Bob Hope’s personal bodyguard and limo driver for thirty years. He drove Mr. Hope up to the last week of his life. (Bob Hope died at 101)

Bob Hope was a protestant but his wife Dolores was a catholic. Hope’s wife asked him where he wanted to be buried. Hope said,

“I don’t know. Surprise me!”

We went back to the Hilton and fell asleep immediately.